


i was there because of you

by nepheIIe



Series: sacred moments [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bold!Sansa, F/M, First Kiss, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, New Year's Eve, Romance, cocky!jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepheIIe/pseuds/nepheIIe
Summary: "So you're saying you were looking at me?""I think everyone here was looking at you, Sansa.""Can't a girl look nice at her New Year's Eve party?""Can't a guy admire her if she does?"
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: sacred moments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566055
Comments: 61
Kudos: 197





	i was there because of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lcdysansa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdysansa/gifts).

> To Maria, who came up with >[this](https://twitter.com/sansasIover/status/1201556578740166656?s=19) and who also deserves the entire world. You're the best, my darling. Merry Christmas 💜

Bored girl at the holiday party.

That's an accurate description of Sansa Stark tonight. She can also be "gorgeous girl with the backless golden dress", the one with all the sparks on it, the one that's a tad too short for her mother's taste, the one that shows off her long legs. The one she wore specifically to attract this one guy's attention, but so far it hasn't been working, so she just sits by the bar and sips on her drink and wonders if this will be the lamest New Year's Eve she's had so far.

The guy in question is Jon Snow. He works for her father, went to college with her brother, is three years older and two inches shorter than her when she's in heels. He also has the prettiest hair she's ever seen in a guy, all black shiny curls she's dying to run her fingers through, and a matching beard that just makes her all that much curious. She has never kissed a guy with a beard before, they’re not really her type.

Except he is.

He is also currently talking to two women Sansa has never seen before in her life, and he spent the entire party booked and busy and looking at everyone else but her, which she should consider an insult because _ damn _ she looks good tonight. She looks pretty fucking amazing, and she has received many looks since the moment she set foot at this party, from both men and women, yet sadly none from Jon Snow. 

They’re at her family’s annual New Year’s Eve party, the one that’s actually just a bunch of her father’s business associates talking about, well, business while they drink at some fancy hotel pentohouse because they’re all fucking workaholics, the one she always skips because they’re not exactly the funniest thing to attend and Sansa likes to have her fun, but ever since she’s met Jon Snow, at another company party similar to this one six months ago, she can’t stop thinking about him. She’s twenty three and she’s too old to still be obsessing over boys but there’s just something about Jon, something take makes her all flustered and needy and desperate. So now here she is, sitting at the bar alone, avoiding her mother’s disapproving stare at her short dress and her little brother’s teasing - Rickon just can’t help himself when she’s around, it’s like he was born with the sole purpose of tormenting her - while she thinks of the many ways she could be having fun right now.

She could’ve gone to the Hamptons with Margaery and her siblings. She could’ve also gone to Vegas with Jeyne and Theon - god bless them, they’ll probably lose all their money and end up getting married by some guy dressed like Elvis - but no, she had to stubbornly stay in New York, to the delight of her mother and father, and to be totally and completely ignored by Jon.

Sansa Stark being ignored by a guy when she’s looking this good.

Shit, that’s a first.

Which also means she’ll have no one to kiss at midnight.

Great start to the year, huh.

She sips her drink fast, ordering another one right away. The bartender looks cute enough to kiss, with his brow hair and his green eyes, but he wouldn't dare. She’s the boss’s daughter, everyone knows that. That’s why all she’s gotten tonight are looks for afar, no one’s brave enough to hit on Ned Stark’s perfect daughter at his own party, not even playboy Harry Hardyng, the son of one of her father’s oldest friends, even if he has been staring at her bare legs for the past twenty minutes.

She turns around in her seat, drink in hand, sipping on the little red straw while her eyes fall on Jon again. He’s still there, talking with the two women, messy curls a bit slicked back, white button shirt tight around his arms, black pants that fits him perfectly. From this angle, Sansa has an amazing view of his ass and maybe she shouldn’t stare so obviously but _ damn it _, it’s not her fault he looks that good. It’s not her fault at all that she’s totally infatuated by him, in fact, Sansa can’t be blamed for this situation at all when all she’s ever done is stare at Jon when in reality she would very much like to wrap her arms around his neck, fingers tugging at those gorgeous black curls, and kiss his pretty mouth until they’re both gasping for air.

He still won’t turn around, still won’t look at her, and she gives up, facing the bar again, resting her chin in one of her hands while the other holds the little red straw and stirs her drink. Six months, that’s all it took. Just six months since that wretched office party that she’d been forced to go to, the one where she ended up drinking too much and Jon kindly offered to take her home, being the most perfect gentleman while also proving himself to be quite the funny guy. Since then, she started coming to the office more often, surprising her father and Robb with unexpected invitations for lunch, helping - or at least trying - around with paperwork, attending all the boring ceremonies and get togethers and charity balls they hosted - for the happiness of her mother and her own personal misery - just that she could see him, and also be seen by him, yet never, not even once, did Jon Snow decide it would be a good idea to make a move on her. He just stood there, looking dashiling beautufyll like he is tonight, making small talk, cracking a few jokes, and sometimes smirking at her in the most infuriatingly sweet way, but _ never _acting on her small cues for him to just take her by the hand and lead her the hell away from anyone else, preferably to a place where he could kiss her sensellessly and - let’s be honest - fuck her brains out.

Tonight is her last shot, her last attempt to try and get Jon Snow to just notice how truly desperate to be fucked she really is, because yes, she’s desperate. And worse, she actually likes him. In all her tries to get his attention she ended up getting to know him quite well and turns out he’s not only incredibly hot but also a really nice and interesting guy, a good reader, well travelled, animal lover kind of guy, and _ maybe _ she’s catching feelings. Which is a no-no on her hand book, at least for now. She can’t catch feelings for Jon Snow, she _ won’t _ catch feelings for Jon Snow, she just needs him to take care of her in the way she _ knows _he can if he wants to.

The problem is that he doesn’t seem all that much interested.

She’s so focused on her sexual frustrations she doesn’t really notice when someone approaches her, just suddenly feels a slightly cold hand at her back, and she sort of jumps at the contact of skin to skin. Part of her brain hopes it’s finally Jon having come to his senses but she should’ve known her luck is escaping her tonight. A man leans on the counter next to her, a man she usually ignores, a man who’s smiling while openly looking her up and down with his green eyes.

“Good evening, Miss Stark.”

“Hello, Mr. Baelish.”

“Miss Stark, how many times have I told you to just call me Petyr? Mr. Baelish makes me sound like quite the bore.”

Sansa bites back a smirk, her eyes studying him as much as he’s studying her. Maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s fact she hasn’t gotten any in almost five months, but he looks good tonight. Old enough to be her father, yes, and his cold hand is still at her back, thumb caressing her gently in a way that sort of gives her the chills, but yes, she has to give it to him, he looks good in his navy blue suit. He’s an old family friend who just recently became an investor on her father’s company, and Sansa’s been aware for a while now of his interest in her, but he’s never been this forward before like he’s being now, and she wonders what changed. It’s a bold move, to approach her like that in the middle of her father’s party, but when he talks again, his head leaning closer this time, she can smell the liquor in his breath and things start to make more sense.

“I couldn’t help but notice you were sitting here all alone and I just thought to myself how unfortunate that must be for you.” He dares to lean closer, his breath strong with whiskey, his hand sliding dangerously low on her back, and Sansa wonders if she’s going to have to tell him to catch himself on in a very unladylike manner. “A girl this pretty should never be alone, especially on a night like this.”

“She’s not alone.”

The voice comes from behind her and she turns her head to look at him. Jon is standing next to her, one hand holding his blazer jacket, the other in his pocket, and his eyes are on Baelish, who’s quick to lean backwards, his hand leaving Sansa’s bare back to rest at his side, fist clenched while he looks back at Jon with a fake smile.

“Mr. Snow.”

“Mr. Baelish.” Jon’s voice is hard, and he leans a little closer to Sansa while speaking. “I heard Mr. Royce was looking for you.”

Baelish darts back instantly. “Oh I was just having a chat with Miss Stark, here. We were talking about how lovely the evening has been so far, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, in fact, Sansa, would you mind coming with me to the balcony while I smoke? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Without waiting for a reply, he takes the hand from his pocket and extends it to her. She finishes her drink in two sips, hoping off her seat with ease while giving Baelish her best apologetic look.

“Another time, perhaps, Miss Stark?” he sounds resentful and she needs to bite back a smirk.

“Sure, Mr. Baelish. Have a good night.”

She takes Jon’s free hand as he leads the way, her fingers burning in his grip, her mind racing with the meaning of it all. He spends the entire night ignoring her only to come to her rescue like a knight in shining armor, taking her away by the hand so they could have a “discussion”? Who does he think he is, behaving like this, like she’s a thing to be cared for, to be handled? She doesn’t need his protection, she can take care of herself just fine on her own, thank you very much.

Still, she doesn’t let go of his hand.

He leads them away from the guests, to the left corner of the room, and stops only to open one of the wood and glass doors that leads to the balcony. He steps outside, waits for her to pass before shutting the door, blocking out the noise of conversation and bad music behind them. The night is very cold but it isn’t snowing, yet Sansa feels every hair on her skin lift, her body slighting shivering from the winter air. It doesn’t help that she’s not wearing a bra, and she feels her nipples hardening under her dress from the low temperature. Just as she’s about to ask him why they’re there, Jon comes up behind her and places his jacket around her shoulders, pulling out her hair from underneath it, his touch gentle on her locks. He then moves to stand in front of her, placing his hands at her now covered arms, rubbing up and down, the friction warming her skin.

“Thanks.” she says, her breath forming a little steam cloud after leaving her lips.

“You’re welcome.”

She stays silent, watching as his hand fish in his pocket for something. A pack of cigarettes. He takes one out, places it on his lips, grabs a lighter from the other pocket, brings both his hands close to his mouth, lights the lighter up, brings it close to the cigarette, takes a drag, breathes in, lets one of his hands down, the other grasps at the cigarette, pulls it away from his mouth, breathes the smoke up and away from her face. Her eyes are glued to his every move, watching the veins on the back of his hands, the quick motion of his fingers, the way his lips move around the cigarette and then blowing away the smoke, and she feels hypnotized by it. He does the same motion three times before speaking.

“You smoke?”

She meets his eyes now, and they’re darker than his usual grey. He’s offering her the lit cigarette in his fingers. “No.” she says, bluntly, then adds a little side smile. “Not tabaco anyways. They’re bad for you.”

He lets out a small chuckle, lower his eyes for a moment, takes another drag. “Yeah, I should’ve guessed that.”

She’s slightly annoyed by the way he says it, like he somehow knows things about her, about the type of woman she is, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he can get under her skin so easily. There’s silence once more, and she bites her lip at the sight of him, moonlight in his hair, city lights on his face, making him look oh so beautiful and she finds that she’s even more desperate for his touch. She distracts herself by acknowledging her fingers are going numb, and she lifts both her hands to her mouth, blowing hot air on them, watching as his eyes never leave her.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asks, wanting to fill the silence before she decides to do something stupid.

“Just a little. You’re the one who’s wearing almost nothing.”

She smiles, decides maybe she’ll be cheeky with him now. "So you're saying you were looking at me?"

"I think everyone here was looking at you, Sansa."

"Can't a girl look nice at her New Year's Eve party?"

"Can't a guy admire her if she does?"

She bites back a smile at the comment. She's sure she's blushing, but she'll blame it on the cold, not on the way Jon is staring at her, at her bare neck, her mouth, her blue eyes. She licks her lips before speaking again, just to see his gaze drop to her mouth, and she shouldn't enjoy it this much but she does.

"So what did you wanna talk about?"

His eyes are still on her lips. "What?"

"You dragged me here because you said you wanted to talk to me about something. What was it?"

He keeps quiet, still staring, even while blowing the smoke upwards so it won't linger near her. She swallows, her throat dry from the cold air, and she wishes she’d brought a drink outside with her.

"Unless you didn't want to talk about anything, you just wanted to get me away from Petyr."

His gaze is back on her eyes at the mention of the name. His tone is harsh now.

"I don't like you talking to him, that's all."

She’s curious. "Why not?"

He’s doesn’t stutter. "He's a creep."

"True. But I don't see you dragging any other girls away from him as well."

He rolls his eyes at her, takes another drag before speaking. "He never talks to other girls, only you."

Now she’s more than curious. She’s intrigued. "And that bothers you, why?"

"You could do better."

"I should be the one to decide that, don't you think?"

"Sure, love. Doesn't mean I need to be okay with it though."

The way he says it, looking her straight in the face like it’s some normal thing to say, like he’s entitled to have an opinion about her, makes her blood hot despite the cold. Jon Snow, the guy who won’t even look at her when she’s wearing one of her most gorgeous dresses, is suddenly bothered by some random old man who enjoys flirting with her from time to time. She’s not sure what game he’s playing, but she’s tired of it, and she’s tipsy, and she’s angry, and she also really wants him, so she takes a breath before speaking, her voice surprisingly clear despite her exasperated state.

"Are you going to kiss me, Jon?"

He drops his unfinished cigarette, puts it out by stepping on it with his foot, eyes still on her while he takes a step forward, yet still not close enough.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

She huffs, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"Are you always this inpatient?"

He says it with a smirk, sounding oh so smug, and that what breaks her. "Wouldn't you be if you were waiting six months for someone to get a hint?"

"Are you saying you've wanted me to kiss you for the past six months?"

His tone is inquisitive now, and she bites her lip in annoyance. She didn't mean to say that. Maybe it's the alcohol, or the way Jon steps in closer, his right hand coming up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. He leans in, mouth close enough for her to feel his hot breath when he speaks.

“Aren’t you gonna answer me?”

It comes out breathless. “Yes.”

His right hand is now at her hair, fingers gripping tight oh her locks, his left hand comes up to rest on her back, under his jacket, the cold of his skin makes her shiver. He’s so close their noses slightly bump, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want you to kiss me.”

The _ me _gets lost when he crushes his mouth with hers, lips hungry and harsh, filling her with heat in the cold winter night. One of her hands goes to his hair, finally getting to tug on his pretty curls, the other rests gently on his chest, feeling the way his heart beats uncontrollably. He kisses her roughly, with a want that matches her own, and she can’t help but moan into his mouth, feeling his grip on her hair get even harder, contrasting with the gentle caress of his thumb on her bare back.

Once they finally break contact, both of them panting, he rests his forehead in hers, his hold on her still strong while he speaks. "You're killing me with this dress, did you know that?"

"I wore it just for you."

She means to say it in a low, teasingly tone, like a joke or a bluff or some bullshit one would say after being kissed like this, but her voice comes out sweet and needy and still so desperate for him that there's no point in pretending anymore. He looks at her knowingly, a different sparkle to his eyes, as if her words have changed something inside him. That sparkle is quickly replaced by a hunger that contrasts with the way his right hand leaves her hair to grip at her chin, his thumb gently swiping over her lips.

"Did you now, love?"

She darts her eyes down, but the hand on her chin pulls her face upwards, and she has no choice but to stare into his grey eyes. He gives her a smirk, biting his lip while the hand at her back drops a little lower. She shakes her head affirmatively, mouth suddenly dry, and his smile widens just a little before he speaks.

"And why was that?"

"I wanted to get your attention."

He drops his hand to her ass, squeezing it hard while pressing her body to his, her covered nipples hard against his chest, and she feels his erection through his pants. The hand on her chin travels backwards again, tangling in her hair in a gentle grasp while his lips meet hers once more, just as hungry as before, but now his tongue moves slower, exploring her mouth without a hurry, and she feels her body burning with her desperation for him. Her hands are on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his hair, moving as slowly as his lips on her, hoping to make him feel as hot and bothered as she is, and they rest at the nape of his neck once Jon finally breaks their kiss, biting her lower lip before speaking, his voice breathless.

"It's safe to say you have it."

It's only then she registers the cheering coming from the streets and the nearby buildings. He notices it too, looking back to the wood and glass doors that they went through, seeing some of the guests hugging and cheering while celebrating. He lets out a breathless chuckle.

"I think we missed the countdown."

"That's okay. Besides, they say the way you start your year defines how the rest of it is gonna be, right? I think ours was pretty decent."

He smiles at her, bumping his nose on hers while speaking. "Just decent?"

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t manage to bite back her smile. "I'd say amazing, but you're already cocky enough without me adding to your ego."

He laughs, and whispers into her lips before kissing her again. "Happy new year, Sansa."

"Happy new year, Jon."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read! Let me know how you feel about it! 💜
> 
> I suffer from really bad anxiety and sometimes writing helps me sleep. That being said, English is not my first language and this work is unbetaed, so there's bound to be many mistakes out there. Please excuse me, I'll try to fix them as soon as I can 💜
> 
> I'm @sansaravenclaw on tumblr if you ever wanna chat!
> 
> Maria, you're an angel. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Xxxxx


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